


The Truth about Love

by daisybelle



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Angst, Getting Together, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, UST, mentions of former relationships, not Zurich compatible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:38:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybelle/pseuds/daisybelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Carolyn is suddenly able to pay Martin, he stays with MJN. Unfortunately he looses his room in the attic, but Douglas offers him a place to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tracionn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracionn/gifts).



> Title is inspired by P!nk's 'The truth about love' because I had the idea while I was at her concert.
> 
> Un-betaed.

Martin closes the last of his bags, wondering a bit how loud the sound of the zipper echoes through the small room. And although he had never thought it to be possible, but leaving this place which had been his home for so many years (and so many generations of students) makes him a bit sad. He looks a last time around to check if he has forgotten something. Not that it is necessary. The room is obviously empty, the posters covering the cracks in the wall are gone as well as the curtains that were meant to block out at least some of the autumn and winter drafts. All his belongings are by now in his van in front of the house, only this one bag is left.

The sound of his mobile ringing disrupts his sentimentality, only to fill him with slight panic. He has avoided this call and the caller far too long, he knows that. Taking a deep breath he unlocks the call and answers hesitantly.

“Hello.”

“Hello Martin, you are suddenly very hard to reach. Everything alright?” They don’t have the clearest of connections, static surrounding every word, but he still hears the worry in the fine modulated voice.

“Oh yes, Theresa, everything is fine”, he assures her. It is, but not in the way she thinks. 

“Good, I was worried. I was trying to reach you for weeks by now. Did you have so much to do? When will you be arriving in Zurich?”

And there it is, the moment of truth, the reason why he has avoided her for so long. It’s time for another deep breath and then the words just tumble out of his mouth. 

“I won’t be coming to Zurich.” 

In the following stunned pause he bites his lip, trying to determine over the static whether her Royal Highness Princess Theresa is still on the other end, waiting for a reaction. When he can’t stand the silence anymore, he calls her name carefully.

“What do you mean; you won’t be coming to Zurich? You start your new job at Swiss Airways.”

To his relief her voice is tinged with confusion and maybe a hint of annoyance, but thankfully no real anger. It gives him enough courage to attempt his explanation. 

“Actually, I am not. I turned them down. I’m staying with MJN.”

Right now the silence on the other end is deafening. Nervously he catches his shirt in his left thumb, kneading it, holding his breath until he can’t take it any longer and rushes into an explanation.

“Theresa, they need me. They will lose everything. Carolyn has mortgages on her house and she can’t afford them without MJN. And Arthur, he says he will be happy and he probably will because there is no way Arthur is not going to be happy, but the people at the hotel won’t know him. And Douglas. I mean, there is no chance that he will find something new. And he is always so blasé about it, but I know that he loves being the mighty sky god. And he is good. He is really good, you know. As if he was born to fly. He always just … just knows what to do. And … And it would be a shame if he can’t fly anymore. That’s why … I’m staying.”

Another silence follows his outburst and his fiddling with his shirt has loosened one thread which he slides around his finger while he waits for a reaction, almost stopping the blood supply, worrying on the now white tip of his finger.

“Theresa?”

A sigh answers him.

“But Martin, this is very nice of you wanting to safe them but you should get paid for your work and from what you’ve told me Caroline is realistic enough to know that she will lose everything sooner or later. And where will you be then? Martin you have to let go and take a job where you are paid for what you do.”

“But I am. She pays me now. I am getting paid, I really am. I mean it is not as much as Swiss Airways, but it’s enough for me. And when I need more I still have Icarus Removals.”

“How does she pay you? Did she rob a bank?” Martin probably can’t blame her for being sceptic, after all she has seen everything that MJN has to offer, and she heard his stories. 

“No, not a bank. More her ex-husband.”

“Pardon?”

“Not literally, of course.” And Martin grins at the image of Caroline threatening Gordon with a weapon, her face hidden beneath a mask, Arthur behind her, struggling with his mask while Douglas runs the commentary. He supposes, he would sit outside in his van, providing the get-away-car and with their luck his van will probably decide that this is the right moment to break down again. 

“Martin?” comes the prompt from the other end of the line and he shakes his head, clearing the image of Caroline chiding him and launches into an explanation. (Also loosening the thread around his finger but ignoring the slight tingling.)

“Well, Caroline gets the money from her ex-husband, but he doesn’t know it.”

“How so?” 

“His new wife, Hayley. She found out that he cheated on her and since she doesn’t want to lose her role as his wife but also doesn’t want to let him be unpunished she decided to do what would anger him the most. She gave Caroline one of the trust funds he had signed over to her so that Caroline can continue with MJN.”

“She just signs over a trust fund because he cheated on her? That doesn’t sound like revenge.” Martin can understand her disbelief. 

“It really is. Gordon hates MJN, hates the fact that Caroline got Gerti in the divorce and is now running an airline called ‘My Jet Now’.”

A soft chuckle interrupts him.

“That’s what it stands for?”

Martin joins her laughter for a moment before returning to his explanation.

“Yes, that’s what it stands for. He even tried to steal the plane once, declaring that he wanted it back and repaint it as a final triumph over her. He really, really hates the existence of MJN. And now he is practically supporting the company.”

“A very female revenge.” Theresa’s voice sounds thoughtful, only with a hint of the laughter still in it.

“Yes, that’s what Douglas said, too.”

“And now she can pay you?”

It is more of a statement than a question, but Martin answers nevertheless.

“Yes.”

He hesitates. There is still something else he should say, but talking to her reminds him how easy things seem around her, how she saved him from a ‘dragon’. But it takes more courage than telling her about his job and before he has gathered enough, Theresa speaks. 

“Martin, I’m happy for you, I really am, but I had thought … I had thought with you being in Zurich we could take things further.”

Martin bites his lip. He hears the disappointment and the large part of him that had been drowning in loneliness for so long is still wondering how she, a princess, could feel this way for him, a luckless pilot. But the other part, the sensible part, the part that gave his heart away a long time ago, knows they aren’t meant for each other. 

“I’m sorry, Theresa”, he offers. And he really is because he likes her and maybe he is also a little bit in love, but not enough to change his decision.

“I know you are.”

Her soft voice sounds a bit melancholy, loses so much of her live for a moment. 

“Promise me, we will be friends.”

He is fast to assure her, not only because this goes so much better than expected, but because he likes the idea of them being friends, still able to talk. His relief is probably audible because now he can hear her soft chuckle. 

“You know, Martin, as a friend I have now the obligation to tell you the truth.” And yes, somehow she sounds like a friend, but also very determined and Martin is reminded of Caroline when she gives him a lecture. So he is a bit hesitant when he asks: “What truth?”

Funnily enough the nervousness is back and his finger returns to the thread on his shirt.

“Douglas.” It is a simple declaration but it hits him with surprise. He makes a not very eloquent inquiring sound (more like a helpless squeal), but he thinks it is understandable.

“You explained why you need to stay for Caroline and Arthur, but most of the time you talked about him. And it wasn’t only today. You always talk about him, what he has said, what he has done. You managed to talk about him in every single of our conversations.”

“Did I?”, he stutters, a too familiar sign of insecurity that matches the heat he can feel rising in his cheeks and the sudden turmoil in his stomach. Right now his complete right hand clenches his shirt in his fist. She doesn’t bother to answer, although it leaves him wondering with how many people he has talked about Douglas.

“How long have you been in love with him?”

Her voice is gentle and understanding which astonishes him a bit. Shouldn’t she be mad that he was going out with her while being in love with somebody else? 

“Martin?” Still a gentle prodding and it lures the truth out of him. 

“Probably the whole time, but I just realised it some time ago.”

He hears the apologetic sound of his voice and feels sorry and ashamed because he never meant to lead her on, but if not a princess, a real princess, makes him forget Douglas and his feelings for him, what else? It had been worth a try and he had enjoyed spending time with her.

“I suspected something like this.”

“You did?” 

She had never given any indication.

“Yes, I did. As I said he is your favourite topic in any conversation.”

“I never realised.” He sighs. 

“Yes, I’m aware of that, that’s why I’m telling you. You always start talking about flying, and sooner or later it’s ‘Douglas did this’ and ‘Douglas said that’.”

“You never said anything.” 

“Well, I hoped moving to Zurich would end this infatuation. But it is more, isn’t it?” 

“Yes”, he admits slowly. And maybe this is the point to freak out but he realises that his hands are calm and open. He tries to straighten to crinkles on his shirt, tries to think of a way to change topic, but there is one question burning in him: “What should I do?”

“Maybe you should tell him?” 

Even when presented as a question the advice sounds wrong. It has taken him long enough to realise his own feelings and he would certainly not talk about them if Theresa hadn’t cajoled him along in this conversation, so telling Douglas is more than impossible. Not right now, maybe never.

“I can’t”, he chokes. And because she deserves more he manages: “I mean he is straight and he was married three times. To gorgeous women. And he has a kid. It would ruin everything.”

“Oh, Martin.”

Her compassion nearly undoes him and he bites on his finger to focus on this and breathe around the lump in his throat.

“It’s alright. I’ve known this for some time.”

They are both silent for a long time. Martin releases his finger and wonders what to say. The conversation has gone completely unexpected and right now it seems at a dead end. Obviously Theresa realises this too because it’s her who ends the call. 

“I wish you good luck, Martin. And call me. We are friends.”

“I will”, he promises before he rings off.

The mobile weighs heavy in his hand and he stares unfocused at the wall fighting back for his control, moving his feelings back in a corner of his mind. A passing car down on the road wakes him from his reverie. He glances one last time through the empty room, grabs his bag and leaves.


	2. Chapter 2

“Give me another one.”

“Are you sure, Douglas? You have to fly tomorrow.”

Although the question is accompanied with a glance to the clock and not the car keys it still wakens long buried memories. Memories of a time when alcohol had been a daily companion, and sitting in a bar was more normal than staying at home. Back then it was an escape from the marriage – they had been much too young. Now he fights the loneliness that comes with the third divorce and the empty house. His therapist would probably have a field day with him going to a bar to escape the ruins of his life. 

Douglas shakes the head at himself. Indulging in self-pity, thinking about therapy – what has become of him? Since when does he think about his life being in ruins? And his therapist had been an idiot. Attractive yes, easily impressed by him being a pilot, but nevertheless an idiot. And unprofessional enough to sleep with her clients. But she had fulfilled her purpose, getting him off the addiction, making it a challenge. Maybe not such an idiot after all. 

Although sometimes it still seems as if it is the first day. The first days without going back, when the temptation is almost overwhelming, when he can almost feel it on the tip of his tongue, the slight taste of forgetting. It’s days like those that he fears. When a decade of being sober seems irrelevant, when it could be just one drink; that would be enough. On those days he gets into his car and drives. Drives to another house that doesn’t belong him anymore and sees a little girl that has his name on his birth certificate but now calls another man ‘Daddy’. He is thankful that Julia, his first wife, still allows him to see her; even more thankful that she understands what a spontaneous 200-miles-drive means. 

Thankfully today is not such a day. Today he can order another apple juice and hold himself up with the knowledge that he made it a fucking decade. Even if he has nothing else. It’s strange coming to this conclusion and even stranger that he can just accept it. Douglas Richardson who always tricked life has now come to a point in his life where he doesn’t expect the next adventure. Oh yes, his schemes and his flying abilities still gain him the admiration and the envy of Arthur and Martin, but that’s just a way of passing time, nothing really achieved. Although he is thankful for the little mercy because then he still feels useful. 

Carl puts a new glass in front of him. That’s another thing he is grateful for. That they’ve never asked, just accepted it. God, he really is in a self-analysing mood today. Maybe it has to do with the fact that today it was made official. Hayley Shappey the new investor of MJN and Martin staying for less money that he should despite the offer from SA. Their little airdot will survive a little longer and without ‘Douglas being clever’. Times have changed. 

Douglas takes a sip, not even pretending that it is something other than apple juice. He turns to watch the other men nursing their pints. Of course he can join them, listening to their tales and insults as they try to cheat each other at the cards game, but staying the observer suits his mood. He smirks at the outlandish tale from Frank about the fire truck, which is already exaggerated far beyond the original version. The additions don’t go unnoticed by the surrounding men, each protesting some of Frank’s claims and Douglas feels another wave of gratitude for having found this. Mentally slapping himself, he empties the rest of his glass and takes his jacket. Apparently the drinks make him sentimental tonight. 

He walks slowly to his car at the airfield. It is a nice evening, so he doesn’t mind the walk too much, but he has to have a word with Carl and Frank and the others to relocate the ‘Radio & Taxi’ to a more convenient place before the winter. The old power station with the antenna on the other side of the airfield is not the worst place they have ever chosen, but there is no parking space nearby, the airfield there is surrounded by solid wood. And even if the runway doesn’t look this long from an aeroplane, it is a complete different matter when one has to walk the whole length because airport security doesn’t allow private vehicles on the airfield. (He still needs to figure out a way around this without getting spotted.) At least the airport is closed by now so there is no danger of being overrun by an aeroplane.

The main buildings of the airport come slowly in sight. The tower, the hangars of some of the private clients who store their little planes here, the porter cabins. And in the semidarkness MJN’s porter cabin looks almost like those of the other firms. Caroline has immediately invested some of Hailey Shappey’s advance payment in necessary repairs including a new roof. Probably not a bad move on Caroline’s part, there is a hardly a way that their new investor can retract the money from that. 

Even though it seems unlikely that Hailey Shappey would do that. The meeting between those two women had been quite a sight. Twenty years apart, but both determined to get the best out of the arrangement and united in their glee to punish Gordon Shappey. The man really has an interesting taste in women. 

Slowly he comes closer to the premises of MJN. As usual he does a visual check on Gerti, but there seems to be nothing wrong her. She almost looks like a real aeroplane at night; the signs of age and damages and low-cost repairs not visible even to the trained eye. A respectable old lady.

Lost in thought, Douglas is abruptly pulled back in the here and now when a breakdown lorry arrives at the airfield, the lights flickering up and down due to the uneven ground and the clanging far too loud for this time of the night. His surprise over the unexpected sight ends when he catches sight of the freight on the truck. Even in the dark he recognises Martin’s van.

Surely enough after the lorry comes to a stop, the gangly figure of his captain climbs out of it, holding something in his hand that looks like his flight bag. Martin says something to the driver that Douglas can’t hear over the distance and the sound of the running engine. But Martin closes the door, and the lorry turns, giving the airfield back to the semidarkness and the silence. Martin hasn’t seen him yet in the shadows surrounding Gerti and Douglas waits, wondering a bit what had happened. Even Martin wouldn’t come ten hours early for a flight.

The captain obviously waits until the truck is out of sight until he turns and walks to the porter cabin. Shortly afterwards he opens the door and disappears inside. When the lights go on, Douglas starts to walk. He has a very strong suspicion what has happened – at least about some parts from Martin’s night – and the lifelong habit of seeing potential and even personal advantages in almost every situation lets him open the door. 

It is obvious that his appearance startles Martin. The captain has stopped mid-movement, a hand almost protectively in front of him. When he recognises him the tension leaves Martin’s body as well as a relieved breath. Douglas watches him for a moment, taking in the jeans and the t-shirt and the untamed curls. He looks younger than his age and a bit lost. The impression is reinforced by his pale skin that stands in stark contrast to his freckles and the dark circles beneath his eyes. 

“Martin, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?”

Douglas watches the blood slowly rising in Martin’s cheeks and the nervous playing with a loose thread of his shirt. Finally he has found enough courage to answer the question.

“I needed a place to sleep tonight.”

“What is wrong with your place? I mean apart from all the things that are wrong with it, but why can’t you sleep in your own bed?”

Douglas hasn’t thought it possible, but Martin gets even more flustered.

“When I got the job at Swiss Airways I told my landlord I would move out. And he wanted to take the opportunity to modernise the building. So when I decided to stay at MJN, he had already ordered all the workmen and couldn’t cancel it.”

“And then you decided to stay at the porter cabin? I mean, the new sofa and the chairs are quite comfy I’ll grant you that but I certainly wouldn’t want to spend a night on them, let alone several nights.”

“I wanted to stay at my mother’s house until I’ve found something new. But the real estate market in Fitton is fiercely competitive and I … “

“You still can’t afford much.” 

“No.” Martin gives this simple statement with proud posture. His eyes are flashing and Douglas feels a rush of affection for him. Probably still a side effect of the apple juice.

“And on your way to Wokingham your van broke down so you asked the towing service to drive you here.”

Douglas doesn’t like the look of the defeat that now appears on Martin’s face. 

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You?”

The disbelief in Martin’s voice stings a bit in his chest.

“Yes, me. I have an empty house with a guest room; I don’t live far from Fitton. Honestly, I should have been the obvious choice.” 

“I … I didn’t think … I didn’t think you would care.”

Another sting, maybe he should get a complete check-up.

“Martin, we are colleagues and maybe friends. I owe you my job …”

“That was Hailey Shappey.”

Douglas ignores the interruption.

“I owe you my job. The least I could do is offering you a guest room.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Now come on, my commanding officer will be very displeased if I got not enough sleep tonight.”


	3. Chapter 3

Martin watches Douglas leave the porter cabin. He doesn’t know why he waits, but it feels like an enormous decision that shouldn’t be made in the middle of the night. Although it is just an invitation, isn’t it? Something normal among colleagues, friends? He can hear Douglas starting his car and isn’t surprised at the horn calling for him. Still he looks around through the office. It may not be the most comfortable place even with the new furniture, but it is safe.

Safe.

The word bounces in his head. He likes safety, sticks to procedures, and keeps up with all check-ups. Safety and persistence. If you don’t succeed at once you try over and over again, until you get your licence after the fourth attempt. Just the opposite of Douglas who loves a bit of risk taking and frustratingly always succeeds in his first attempt. And strangely enough he has fallen for him. ‘Tell him’ – that’s what Theresa had said but that’s definitely not his style. Stumbling over his own words if he ever has enough courage to give this advice a try would be his style.

The horn blares again.

It startles him enough to provoke another kind of thought. What if he takes this little risk? He has nothing left to lose beside his dignity. And Douglas has witnessed enough of Martin’s embarrassments in life surely he can life down another embarrassment. Falling more in love shouldn’t be possible, but maybe (a very vague maybe) he gets healed. He doesn’t think so – after all spending hours in close vicinity didn’t work, but this is Douglas’ home. And after all he’d just got rid of one of his biggest failures. He is now a paid pilot. The thought helps, he can feel the pride return that he felt when Carolyn handed him his first pay check. If he hadn’t needed the money so desperately he would have framed it.

He grabs his back and shuts off the lights, locks the door behind him. He walks the short distance to Douglas’ car, puts his bag on the backseat and slides in the seat next to Douglas. They don’t speak for the drive. Martin stares through the window, noticing the other man’s glances at him out of the corner of his eye, but Douglas remains quiet. The traffic lights and lanterns are only a blur; his mind too occupied with possible images what their cohabitation might entail. Memories of a half-naked Douglas in shared hotel-rooms when the budget was too tight surface and he feels the heat rising in his cheek. Shaking himself out of the implications of those visions he makes an attempt at thanking Douglas again.

“Ehm … I’m really thankful … you know … for letting me stay at your house. I mean I … I can get the van repaired by tomorrow and then stay at my mum’s house.”

And sighs inwardly at his incapability not to sound like an insecure 15 year old.

“It’s alright, Martin. And there is no need for you to stay at your mom’s. As I have said the house is big enough. And it is certainly nearer to Fitton than Wokingham.”

“That’s … that’s … thank you.”

Isn’t it lovely. Apparently he can’t even utter at least one coherent sentence. Martin presses his lips together, preventing himself form stuttering anything else and let the silence recapture them until they reach the driveway to Douglas’ house. He tries to make out any changes from his one and only visit, but it’s too dark to see any details beyond a neatly trimmed lawn enclosing the parking spot wide enough for two cars and the little path to the front door.

Grabbing his bag he follows his colleague into the house. Douglas turns only the light in the hallway on, not bothering with a grand tour. Probably understandable at this time of the night, but it gives the whole affair some kind of hotel experience. An impression that is only hardened by the glimpses Martin gets on sparely furnished rooms. He is lead into a large room – almost twice the size of his former room in the attic – with an enormous bed.

“You can stay here as long as you want.”

“I want to pay rent”, Martin blurts out and he does not only surprise himself with this statement but Douglas as well. Douglas looks at him closely and the usual mixture of anger, pride and embarrassment at his spontaneous outburst reddens his cheeks again, but he finds that this feels right. He does want to pay rent if he stays here longer than one night. Douglas seems to sense his need and instead of outright refusing him, he merely concedes. “Let’s talk about this in the morning, okay?”

Martin agrees with a thankful smile, biting his lip before other declarations come out. Judging from the slight shake of Douglas’ head his attempt at smiling doesn’t completely succeed. Luckily Douglas knows him well enough not to take offense and simply shows him the bathroom before bidding him good night.

He waits until Douglas disappears behind the door a bit further down the hallway, before he goes into the bathroom. It looks like any other bathroom, although Martin is pretty sure that everything is state of the art. He can’t resist the temptation to smell on the bottle of Douglas’ aftershave before he washes himself and brushes his teeth.

Returning to his guest room he dresses down to t-shirt and pants before he slides between the sheets, wondering a bit why the bed has fresh linens on it. But his mind is already winding down and he is not sure if the sound of a shower is already part of his dream of Douglas disappearing in hotel hallways.

* * *

He awakes as early as usual judging by the pale light coming through the curtains. Unlike as usual he allows himself some minutes of staying in the warmth of a really comfortable bed before he stands up, not being surprised that he can’t hear a thing from the rest of the house.

More or less tiptoeing to the bathroom he ponders the situation throughout his morning toilet. He feels like an intruder walking through the house and looking behind some of the other doors. He finds the kitchen and gets himself a glass of water. It’s when he turns back to his room that he comes up with an idea.

* * *

It is the smell of freshly brewed coffee and fried bacon that lures Douglas out of his sleep and it obviously speaks to his basic instincts. Before he even can make a conscious decision to open his eyes his belly grumbles – clearly indicating that some calories wouldn’t go amiss. And although he wants to stay in bed, he can stay in bed since his alarm hasn’t sounded; curiosity and hunger lead him into the kitchen.

He is greeted with the sight of Martin clad in sweatpants and t-shirt leaning over a pan with bacon, the heat morphing his fringe in frizzly curls and tinting his cheeks with a slight flush. A gaze to his left reveals a ready laid table with two steaming mugs full of coffee, some bread, today’s newspaper and surprisingly fresh fruits.

His stifled yawn alerts Martin to his presence and he is greeted with a shy ‘Morning’.

“Morning. I didn’t know you can cook.”

“Well, I know enough not to use an iron to fry bacon.”

“That was one time”, Douglas protests.

“And I thought I could make you breakfast. As thank you. For rescuing me. Is this alright?”

Douglas notices the slight nervousness and sits down to take a sip from the coffee. He doesn’t suppress the satisfied sigh at the perfect taste of caffeine in the morning and helps himself to some bacon. “Very alright.”

Martin joins him at the table bringing the rest of the bacon with him, and they share a comfortable meal. At one point he starts reading the sports section of the paper, handing Martin the politics part. After his second coffee he remembers Martin’s request from the evening before.

“So, about the rent…”

And Martin looks up from the article he is reading, and Douglas is startled a bit by his wary expression.

“I thought you could pay me the same sum as you did in your old flat …”

“But that’s not enough. I don’t want your charity. I don’t need your charity.”

‘Oh yes, you do’, thinks Douglas but he doesn’t say it.

“… and I would appreciate it if you could take over the cooking.”

“The cooking?”

“I don’t like to cook, and you at least don’t seem to mind it. And you didn’t deny that you can cook.”

“Yes, I can cook; I just don’t have much opportunity to.”

“So this is settled? The same rent you paid before and the cooking?”

“What about the rest of the chores?”

“I don’t mind sharing them. So what do you say?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, than this is settled. Just out of curiosity: How much was your rent?”

It is one of those moments Douglas is thankful for his poker face. The sum Martin mentions is ridiculous small. He had been right: Martin needs his charity, even if he won’t accept it. So he just nods and returns to the newspaper. It takes a moment but then he can hear the rustling of paper and knows that Martin has done the same. The atmosphere that had tensed up during their talk about the rent, returns to the amicable silence they had shared.

But it is only much later, when they both cleared the table together, washed the dishes, when they both changed in their uniform and they stopped at the car repair shop to hear about Martin’s van, when they both sit in the flight deck with the latest instructions, it’s only then when Douglas realises that this has been one of his best mornings in a very long time.


	4. Chapter 4

“Post take-off checks complete. And we are now on our way to sunny Majorca.”

“Thank you, Douglas.”

Martin makes his own personal post take-off check and when he sees all instruments within normal ranges (at least for Gertie) he relaxes back in his seat, wishing for some coffee because last night’s sleep had been interrupted by some very graphic dreams. Which he decides immediately is not a good idea to think about if the subject of said dreams sits right beside you. Since both things happen very often recently (the dreaming and the sitting), at least Martin is by now somewhat adept at starting a normal conversation to diverge his mind.

“I would have thought Majorca makes a better destination for celebrating passing your exams than a 16th birthday.” 

Not that he knows much about it, he had usually saved his money for his next CPL. And when he had finally passed it, the celebration was not as enthusiastically as one could expect, the death of his father had overshadowed everything. So he has only second-hand information from the students in his old house who had always raved about it.

“To each his own, I'd say.” Douglas simply shrugs before he turns to Martin with a slight smirk. “So, what did you do on your 16th birthday? Went to the visitor's platform at Heathrow airport?”

“Actually it was Luton.”

Disbelief appears on Douglas’ face and Martin can't help the grin spreading on his.

“I’m just joking”, he admits. “I think we were having a family party at home, nothing special. Definitely nothing that would be featured in a TV-show. I didn’t even know that 16th birthdays are now worth a TV-show. What about you?”

“About the same. Only some friends, some girls”, (‘Of course’, mutters Martin under his breath.), “some cake and other stuff. Pretty normal, I'd say.” He shakes his head for a moment as if chasing memories away before he continues: “God, I hope my daughter doesn't want something fancy, flying to the Bahamas or re-enacting some episode of Eastenders.”

Douglas shudders dramatically. After witnessing the birthday party in the back of the plane and their arrival at the airport Martin can only agree with this sentiment.

“Do teenagers watch Eastenders these days?”

“I have absolutely no idea.”

For a moment Douglas goes silent and Martin feels regret on reminding Douglas how seldom he has contact with his daughter. Although he never says so, Martin is pretty sure that his co-pilot adores his little girl. He tries to think of something else, finding another topic, but then Douglas seems to chase the dark thoughts away and changes the subject entirely.

“What about misplaced cities?”, Douglas asks out of the blue.

“Misplaced cities?” Not for the first time Martin is sure that he’ll never be able to follow Douglas thoughts. 

“Yes, I always thought that Freetown should be the capital of Liberia, it seems much more fitting.”

Apparently Douglas senses that this explanation doesn’t help with Martin’s confusion and he continues. 

“But instead Freetown is located in Sierra Leone, and Liberia is stuck with Monrovia which might be much better located in California.”

“California?” (Martin simply wishes he could stop himself from repeating Douglas like a parrot.)

“Oh yes, Monrovia like Marylin Monroe, don't you think?”

“Okay”, Martin hears the doubt in his voice but this sounds exactly like one of those games in which Douglas excels and he would be happy coming up with just one example. Especially when Douglas continues effortlessly:

“Or let's take Washington D.C. which is located on the opposite of the country from the state of Washington. Makes absolutely no sense.”

“Alright, alright, let me think about it for a moment.”

He tries to think, running through places in his head, but nothing strikes him as odd. Well, maybe …

“Nassau”, he exclaims.

“What about it?” And Martin is confronted with another one of Douglas specialties, feigning non-understanding when it had been his idea in the first place.

“Well, it sounds pretty German to me, and the Bahamas are rather Non-German”, he elaborates.

“I always thought it was quite fitting.”

“Really?”, Martin can’t hide his disbelief. 

“Yes. ‘Nass’ meaning ‘wet’ in German which I find is always an accurate description for islands and ‘Au’ is the German word for some natural vegetation around rivers or lakes. So, as I said, quite fitting.”

Martin stares at his co-pilot.

“How do you know German?”

Before Douglas has any chance to answer, the door to the flight deck opens and Carolyn comes in.

“Coffee, drivers?”

They both turn to her.

“Carolyn, are you alright?” Martin is sure Douglas seldom sounded this worried.

“No, of course not. I had to get away from Ms Birthday’ celebrating the most important birthday in the world in order to avoid making it her last.”

Before they can react to this statement they all hear a commotion and then Arthur bursts through the door looking as if he’d been run down by a food truck. He is covered in salad leafs and tomato slices. Onion rings decorate the buttons of his uniform and from his hat large drops of melting ice cream slowly descend over his hair and face and on his uniform.

“Mum.”

Martin is pretty sure that Arthur never before managed to say this much with just one word. 

“Arthur, what happened now?”

Arthur’s heavy swallowing creates a drop of ice-cream on his throat. They all seem mesmerized by its way to the floor. And only after it lands next to Arthur’s shoes, adding another slice of colour to the black, green and red of leather, salad and tomato, Arthur speaks.

“They are unhappy with their meals.”

“I guessed as much. Did you tell them that this was what her mother ordered?”

“They weren’t really listening.” 

“Oh, these silly girls. Just because they re-enact some silly American TV-show doesn't mean they get to be treated like royalty.”

She rushes out again. Arthur stays behind until they hear Carolyn calling his name. Martin has never seen Arthur as unhappy as today when confronted with customers. He catches Douglas’ glance and they both share a smile that is a mixture of amusement and relief. 

“I’m really, really glad we are safe in the flight deck.”

“Unless they want the whole experience”, Douglas quips. “Knowing your way with children it is probably better if they stay far away.”

“Knowing my way with children?”

“Kieran”, Douglas grins devilishly. “By the way, speaking of royalty. How did the Princess of Liechtenstein take the news of you not moving to Zurich?”

It is strange how long Martin has been expecting this question and right now he still feels quite unprepared. Theresa’s advice still haunts him, and in the loneliness of his bed he wants to believe she may be right. But sitting next to Douglas in broad daylight those thoughts vanish to dust. And it feels as if any word might reveal too much.

So he just answers carefully “Quite good” and hopes against hope that Douglas will leave it at this.

Of course he doesn’t.

“So can I expect her Royal Highness to come over someday? Should I clean the family silver?”

“You have family silver?” Maybe a distraction will work.

It doesn’t.

“The metaphorical family silver,” Douglas clarifies and looks at him expectantly.

Martin sighs. “No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“It won’t? Martin, you can’t take her out to airfields and museums the whole time, one day she surely wants to see where you live. And I flatter myself that my house is at least better than your room in the attic.”

“Yes, yes, it is”, Martin hastily agrees. “It has nothing to do with your house.”

“So there is a reason? I mean if you want some privacy I can occupy myself somewhere else.”

Martin grows more and more uncomfortable. Douglas seems genuinely worried and not mocking him, being probably more supportive than anyone could expect. There is no way he can talk his way out of this conversation, so he blurts out: “We split up.”

“Oh.” Hesitantly Martin looks to his co-pilot and finds him looking back at him with a strange expression. He can’t read it, and afraid to see pity somewhere in those brown eyes he offers some further explanation: 

“Yes, when she heard I wouldn’t go to Zurich, she took it really well, but in the end we decided a long-distance relationship wouldn’t work.”

It’s as close to the truth as he dares to go. Douglas’ expression changes slightly and Martin starts to get lost in the warmth of his glance. 

“I’m sorry, Martin. I thought you made a pretty pair.”

‘A pretty pair maybe, but what about feelings?’, Martin thinks, but doesn’t say.

“Well, yes, but at least we stay friends.”

“Okay.” 

Martin can’t really decipher Douglas’ tone. Is it doubt? Will he now tell him that it won’t work, that staying friends is just an illusion?

“I think we can make it work as friends. We still could talk, that’s not normal, isn’t it?”

“I have no doubt that you could stay friends with her. I have stayed friends with some of the women I’ve been with. I’m certainly still friends with my first wife. No, I just thought that we should get you a night out.”

“Why?”

“To get you back in the game. To find somebody new.”

“Douglas, you know I’m not very good at the ‘game’. And I don’t want to find somebody new.”

“One more reason to go. Let me do the math: If I remember our schedule correctly – and I’m sure I do – we’ll leave Majorca tomorrow afternoon. So a lot of time to look for a nice Spanish bar and find you someone new. Or at least for the night.”

“I’m really not interested.”

“You could get a basketball team.” 

“I don’t want anybody else right now. I’m fine, I really am.”

“If you say so.”

It is obvious that Douglas doesn’t believe him, but Martin doesn’t dare to protest. And maybe it is not the worst idea if Douglas thinks Martin is still heartbroken. 

“So, Sofia.”

“What?”

Martin stares at him incredulously.

“A misplaced city. I once met a Sofia and she was definitely not Bulgarian.”

Martin swallows at the casual reminder that Douglas isn’t interested in men. Trying to remember that he has managed it for all these years sitting beside Douglas and knowing about the ex-wives and the other tales, he manages to mumble “Cork”.

When he senses Douglas’ gaze on him, he tries to sound perfectly normal as he explains: “I don’t believe that Cork is worldwide leading in Cork production.”

Judging from the soft chuckle beside him he is successful.


	5. Chapter 5

Douglas walks yawning in the kitchen where Martin is already busy readying the coffee and some toast. He leans against the door and watches the other man moving around in his kitchen, taking out the dishes and cutlery without any hesitation, looking as home as did Douglas’ last wife. Maybe even more so. It’s a startling thought, especially without any caffeine, that’s why Douglas tries to distract himself.

“Remind me again, why do we have to get up so early?”

“To get the cupboard of Mrs Smith to Cornwall and deliver it to her son. And he is only there until two.”

“That’s still more than six hours.”

“Well, if I may remind you of the last time you helped me with Icarus Removals and the slightly time consuming incident with the address and the key in the piano.”

“But this time we’re not taking Arthur with us. I get that you need your built-in-time as safety net, but I think you are exaggerating. Six hours for a three hour drive that’s not built-in-time that’s built-in-eons.”

“It won’t be six hours since we still need to shower, and we have to take our breakfast. And it was your idea to help me in the first place.”

Douglas stares at him incredulously. “Did you realise that we just sounded like a married couple.”

“We did not.”

“Actually, we did. Believe me, I was married thrice.”

Douglas pulls the coffee to him, prepares himself a large cup. As he is swallowing a large gulp, he notices the other man’s slight discomfort.

“Relax, it’s probably just the lack of caffeine.”

He takes another gulp before making his way to the shower.

“Can I have eggs and bacon this morning? When I have to move cupboards in the middle of the night, I probably need my strength.”

The little sigh and something that sounds like ‘as if you were the one doing the moving’ once again remind him of his former marriages, but he decides this time better not to mention it.

* * *

One hour later they are making their way to Mrs Smith. Astonishingly Martin has allowed Douglas to drive while taking over navigation and keeping his little twitches at Douglas’ completely secure overtaking manoeuvres to a minimum. And if they both murmur occasionally ‘yellow car’ under their breath then neither acknowledges it.

The cupboard at Mrs Smith is huge and if Douglas is honest he is really glad for it. Because in its current condition there is no way that it will fit in Martin’s van and taking it apart may mean several trips up to the second floor but at least he wouldn’t ruin his back. He is kind of surprised to see Martin for once acting confident as he disembodies the cupboard but doesn’t voice it. He knows from experience that Martin’s confidence usually gets lost if his expertise is acknowledged. And while a flustered Martin is always kind of entertaining Douglas doesn’t like the idea that someone outside their little MJN-family gets to see Martin like that. Instead he just stands silently behind him, collecting the screws and bolts and other pieces or offering a hand to hold one of the wooden panels.

It fits his preferences regarding work. Nothing too strenuous, while enjoying the view of surprisingly muscled arms or shapely legs. And an even nicer arse, when Martin bends in front of him or moves sideways. He has always been an arse-man, enjoying a well-formed butt and despite his skinny built Martin certainly doesn’t need to hide his backside.

Which is something he has never noticed before. Like he also never noticed how soft the small sliver of skin above Martin’s trousers looks where his shirt has travelled up. Or the movement of Martin’s back muscles. Or his neck that just looks perfect for small love bites and possessive marks.

Douglas swallows. This is certainly new and he is absolutely thankful that Martin is working with his back to him because right now Douglas doesn’t really know what to do. Not because Martin is a man – no, Douglas wild youth involved experiences with male and female partners and the reason for his first divorce was definitely male – but because this is Martin.

Martin who always tries so hard to do everything right.

Martin who almost always ends up in the worst possible scenario.

Martin who saved his job.

Martin whom he works with and lives with and has to see practically for 24 hours a day.

Martin who once again bends down and, damn, isn’t this giving Douglas lots of ideas. He suppresses a groan and is thankful that his hands are occupied because the temptation to touch grows with every second.

This is not good. Douglas is pretty sure that this is several levels of not good. Becoming attracted to Martin is certainly one of his stupidest ideas. And not only because the man just broke up with the Princess of Liechtenstein. Douglas is not sure how but this somehow even beats meeting his future wife at his own wedding.

The crashing breakdown of the remaining cupboard parts thankfully ends his introspection although he could’ve done without the parts ending on his foot. On the bright side, the cupboard is finally in pieces and he has an excuse to leave the room, carefully walking in front of Martin to avoid any distractions.

The drive to Mr Smith’s home is quiet. On the surface nothing seems different from their first tour in the morning, but to Douglas it feels different. Uncomfortable. The van is suddenly much too small for the two of them and those new revelations. And Douglas wishes for a moment to breathe, to let those revelations sink in, to have some distance. But Martin is distractingly right beside him. And although Douglas is pretty sure that Martin has no idea what is suddenly the most dominant thing in Douglas’ mind, he feels every glance of Martin, feels them almost penetrating his skin, heating him up from within. And he simply wants to break out.

“Does your foot still hurt?” It’s Martin who is the first to disturb the silence.

His foot? The throbbing is almost gone and Douglas expects only a bruise remaining for the next few days.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

“I’m really sorry. I thought the remaining construction would …”

“As I said, it’s alright.”

Douglas can’t bear another apology, but he knows as soon as those words leave his mouth that this was the wrong thing to say. Or better the way he said it was wrong. Apparently this stupid revelation also affects his ability to lie. He recognises the hurt in Martin’s body language, and he catches his hand before it can travel all the way to Martin to rub soothing circles on his back. The sudden need to console Martin is even worse than the lustful thoughts and the panic it provokes lets the moment grow until the silence is too long and too uncomfortable to do anything about it.

It’s a relief when they finally arrive at Mr Smith’s home. Practically as soon as the van stands Martin jumps out of it, almost sprinting to the front door. Douglas keeps his distance, instead opens the back of the van and waits. Between the three of them – Mr Smith decides to help with the carrying – the van is quickly unloaded. If Mr Smith thinks it strange that the two men with the van don’t speak with each other, he doesn’t comment on it.

But he clearly expects that they rebuilt the cupboard. Which is something Douglas is not prepared for. Because it involves assisting Martin in a much closer proximity than before. Holding panels and watching Martin’s adorable look of concentration. Standing close to him and smelling him. And Martin should be smelling sweaty and disgusting, but somehow it makes Douglas wanting to lick his skin and taste. He also can’t help but notice when he almost leans against him while holding up the cupboard roof how his crotch would perfectly fit Martin’s arse if he just bends his knees a little.

He can’t look away when Martin stretches to reach one screw in the back of the cupboard, waiting for the small sliver of skin to appear as it did before. It still looks temptingly soft and he wants to slide his tongue over it, needs to know the taste. Douglas grips the panel harder, almost digging his fingernails into it to refrain himself from touching. It takes a ridiculous amount of will power to stay in this position and his fascination with the light sheen of sweat is probably why he misses that Martin has finished.

That’s why Martin’s unexpected turn takes him by surprise and judging by the slight ‘oh’ of Martin’s mouth he is also surprised by their closeness. Martin’s soft breath washes over him as they stare into each other’s eyes. The atmosphere grows heavier, anticipation tickles over Douglas’ skin as he still holds on to the cupboard as if it’s the only thing that keeps him in this dimension. Vaguely he hears the street noise through the open window, children playing in front of the house.

And suddenly there is no more space between them. Douglas doesn’t know who has moved, but now he can hear the sound of Martin’s shirt brushing against his, and how this little sound can drown all the other noises is a mystery of its own. But all Douglas can hear right now is shirt moving along shirt with each exhale. The slight movement is a soft caress on his skin

Their breathing becomes heavier as he stares into grey-green eyes, watching pupils dilate, lowering their lids. His gaze drops to Martin’s mouth and he watches a tongue moistening pink, soft looking lips. A new pattern joins the symphony of cotton and exhales. Tough denim rubbing over another layer and feet are shuffling as they come impossibly closer, a leg between two other. It’s deliciously close, but not enough.

And Douglas stares into a face that he has seen so many times before but that now seems like a whole new miracle. The exhalations grow heavier and soon there will be another sound: the slick dance of lips on each other. He moves closer and Martin mirrors his movement. Douglas can almost feel those lips, taste them, their breaths already mingle …

“Oh, is it standing already.”

The voice of Mr Smith is like a cold shower and Douglas practically jumps a foot away. Right at this moment he doesn’t care that they probably look like guilty teenagers, which is certainly not improved by his immediate flight out of the room. But he needs a moment (or more) alone to get a grip on his emotions and how close he came to make a colossal mistake.


	6. Chapter 6

Martin steps into the shower, turning on the water, waiting for the right temperature before he goes under the stream. He enjoys the hot water descending on him, especially the right pressure after spending too much time in his adult life in a shower in the attic or in cheap hotel rooms where showers almost always seem like an afterthought and the water stream is nothing but a small trickle. Certainly nothing compared to the luxurious feeling of a massaging stream.

Another aspect why Martin enjoys his shower so much beside the state of the art installment in Douglas’ bathroom is the lingering smell of Douglas’ shower gel. His first officer usually prefers to shower in the evening and when Martin steps into the shower the next morning the scent is still in the air.

It’s a guilty pleasure, and he suspects very strongly that it is not healthy but since he isn’t responsible for the scent only for the aftereffects, he can live with that. Especially since the situation at the Smith home. He knows he is not good at flirtation and everything it entails but he could have sworn that Douglas was about to kiss him. Their lips were almost touching; certainly there is no room for misinterpretation.

He had wanted it so much. And now …

Douglas has barely exchanged a word with him that day. Or since then. He has avoided him, not an easy task if you share 90 percent of your daytime and a tiny flight deck. But despite his (admittedly stuttering) attempts at easing Douglas’ mind, Douglas remains strictly professional.

Which would usually delight Martin, but he misses the sarcastic wit of his first officer. He misses the friendship before their almost kiss. Although nothing has really happened, all of Martin’s fears are by now confirmed. Something more than friendship would destroy their relationship.

And this is just not fair.

A ruined friendship and he didn’t even get the kiss. Didn’t even get to know whether all of his fantasies had some base on the truth. Whether Douglas’s hands were really this skilled. How it would feel to touch naked skin compared to the clothed contact. How it would feel to rub himself against the thigh between his legs.

Martin has no problem to conjure the memory up. The way Douglas looked at him, at his lips. The way his eyes turned almost black. Once again he feels the sparks of arousal, feels his cock twitching. For a moment he is undecided, the hurt warring with the arousal, his fears with his memories. But he can’t hold back the sigh as he recalls Douglas slowly bending down, intent clear in his eyes.

As if this is the cue to begin, he gives in to his desires. He closes his eyes and imagines the situation without the interruption. He can feel Douglas’ lips on his, the first contact carefully as if he wants to fit them right. A short break, barely time to take a breath, but to find the perfect angle. Lips meeting again, almost casually pulling his upper lip between them, before licking over his lower lip. A tongue asking for entrance.

Martin opens his mouth, not really hearing his own sigh, his imagination turning the wetness from the shower in moisture from Douglas’ mouth. The kiss doesn’t turn immediately heated, it’s more of a slow exploration and Martin starts moving his hands over his chest, light as a feather, more directing the water streams to find new, sensual paths. His fingers linger over his nipples and only when they are teased to hardness he continues his way downwards. He scratches lightly over the sensitive skin of his hips, the warm water soothing immediately.

He pushes a finger in his belly button, shuddering at the sensation and just breathes deeply. He can feel his cock getting heavier and right now the kiss in his imagination definitely changes into a passionate one. He lets his fantasy run free and the thought of Douglas possessively grabbing his arse makes his knees week.

Steadying himself Martin is reminded of the slippery territory and he uses one hand to lean against the wall. The little moment takes him out of the adapted memory and instead he switches to an old favourite of him: Douglas joining him in the shower. Stepping behind him and the spray of the water engulfing them both as Douglas nuzzles his neck while reaching for the shower gel.

Martin imagines those confident hands gliding over his body, distributing the gel and the foam and he follows those traces with his own hand, caressing again his nipples, until they almost hurt. His slightly calloused hand travels down his stomach but avoids his hard cock. Instead he thinks of Douglas’ body behind him, pressed against his back as his hands travel in circles to his legs and back to his belly button, each circle closer to the hardness between his legs. He wants to turn around, to return the favour, but Douglas keeps him this way, holding him still against his body.

His laboured breathing is harsh against the soft fall of the shower water and he finally gives in to the temptation. His fingertips grace his cock and just this short contact makes him groan. His next contact is not as careful, he slides a way from head to base before fully grabbing it, giving himself two, three strong pulls. In his fantasy Douglas’ hand joins him and he swirls the thumb over the slit, mingling the bead of precome with the water.

Martin can’t suppress the gasp at the sensation, his fingertip a delicious contrast to the water drops hitting his cock. He shifts slightly, trying to get a better standing and a slight breeze waving over his body adds to the sensations. He returns to his fantasy of Douglas’ expertly stroking him – always stopping before it becomes too much, returning his attention to another spot on his body. Caressing the collarbone, the small mole just under his ribs, the spot right beside his hip bone.

Martin’s cock throbs, he is aching for release and of course the lover in his imagination knows how to play his body expertly. Douglas’ hand returns to his groin and this time Martin can almost feel Douglas’ cock gliding over the small of his back between his arse cheeks just when he starts massaging his balls.

The blood is rushing in his ears and he can’t really hear anything over his own hard breathing and the water cascading down. When he closes the hand around his cock again he comes hard, and he can only muffle his shout by biting in his forearm.

Slowly he opens his eyes, reluctant to give up his fantasy when he hears the door of the bathroom click.

* * *

Douglas all but runs out of the bathroom to his bedroom, opening the door is almost too much to handle. He has his pyjama bottoms shoved down before his door is completely closed. His cock springs free and he groans out loud when he manages the first stroke. His erection is almost painfully hard; he doesn’t loose time with finesse. Instead his pace is brutal and it takes only a few strokes until he comes, and he collapses on the floor, leaning with his back against the door.

The relief doesn’t last long. He is still panting and finally becomes aware of the sticky wetness in his hand. He looks around, but the tissues on his bed table seem to far away so he simply wipes his hand on his leg. The wetness is uncomfortable and lifts his post-orgasmic haze even faster. He stares mindlessly in the room, trying to make some sense out of what just had happened.

Martin in the shower is one of the hottest things he has ever seen. Just the thought of the water gliding down his body makes his cock twitch again in interest. But at the moment embarrassment is his main emotion. Embarrassment at his body’s reaction, at his lack of self control. He just masturbated to the sight of his very naked and very wet (and very hard) colleague. Even worse he had watched said colleague pleasing himself, and he never thought that he would be one for voyeurism.

In his glory past there had been situations that were simply awkward, but right now he doesn’t know how to react. He still can hear Martin’s muffled moan and he just knows that he can’t face the other man right now. Douglas scrambles up, his legs still a bit shaky, but he changes fast, putting on the first trousers and shirt he finds.

Then he returns to the door, holding his ear against it to listen to noises in the rest of the house, hoping to determine where Martin is right now. The fact that he is reduced to this, reduced to someone who listens at doors in order to avoid his colleague, doesn’t help with his embarrassment, but he swallows it down.

He can’t hear a sound, so he opens the door carefully. It seems as if Martin has followed his usual routine and is at the moment in his room to change. Douglas hastily takes the chance and tries not to run out of the house. The moment he sits in his car and turns on the road he allows himself a relieved breath. Now he needs time to think of a plan for this situation.


	7. Chapter 7

“Post flight check complete?”

It’s the question Douglas has been waiting for since they stopped the engines.

“Post flight check complete, Captain. I’m off, I’ll see you at the house”, he replies, already moving to leave the flight deck. He ignores Martin’s murmured ‘the heck, you will’ as well as Carolyn’s ‘We should be happy you waited until the plane actually stood’ when he walks by her at the door. He is thankful that this was just a freight flight, so there is no delay for his leaving.

As fast as Douglas dares he makes his way to the car trying not to look as if he is running away. Although he probably doesn’t fool anyone. The sharp wind on the airfield does nothing to clear his head from the jumbling thoughts that have tormented him during the flight. Once again he calls himself a fool for ignoring one of the first and basic laws among men: If you walk on somebody masturbating you walk away fast and you forget it.

But he had already failed the first part. Catching Martin in the shower, seeing his lithe body outlined behind the shower curtain. It was obvious from the first second what Martin was doing but Douglas couldn’t look away, captivated by small sounds, aroused by the slick movement and he stood there watching until the end, petrified but for the growing ache in his groin. It had taken all his willpower to leave the bathroom or if he was honest fleeing it (like he was doing now). The memory of him jerking off usually hits him with a wave of embarrassment, which is not lessened by the fact that it wasn’t the only time this memory had resurfaced and he had to take matters in his own hand, wishing it was somebody else’s. At this point he usually tries to stop his thoughts. Not surprisingly, it doesn’t work and if he were one for vocal orgasms there is no question whose name he would moan at the end.

It’s just so frustrating. He can’t be near Martin because suddenly the man is a sexgod and Douglas is aware of the body next to him all the time. Of course he had experienced sexual attraction to a co-worker before. But those instances were different. For instance, pilots and flight attendants didn’t have a certain reputation for no reason and they seldom minded a more relaxing and intimate post flight procedure. Also, with Air England there was an ever-changing roster of flight personnel, so if the attraction didn’t work out, there would be somebody else sitting next to him during the next flight.

What was even worse that those instances in the past didn’t involve feelings. And even Douglas’ vast experience didn’t prepare him for what he is feeling now. If it was just lust he could ignore Martin stuttering at word games and how it reminds him of the shuddering breaths Martin took under the shower. He had fooled around with boys. Sex was sex and in the end it was about friction and feeling good, but it had been ages since he had been with a man. It had been even longer since he had been in a relationship with one.

And he was not stupid enough to mistake the warmth in chest when Martin laughs or the butterflies in his stomach when their eyes meet as something not pointing towards love.

Which is a disaster.

He had just ended his third marriage with what seemed at the time as the perfect woman. Smart, beautiful, funny. And she had left him for her Tai Chi teacher. He had seen the man. Younger than he, not a grey hair or wrinkle in sight, obviously not relying on his genes to stay slim. Compared to him Douglas had felt old and used. In a detached way he could understand why Helena would choose the Tai Chi teacher over him.

And now Martin. Martin who was even younger than his third wife. Who had a princess fall for him. Who had saved his job, the whole company. He knows that Martin is not for him, he deserved someone better than he. What would Martin do with a rundown-pilot, a recovered alcoholic with three failed marriages and who could only get a job at a tiny airline, or, as Carolyn had termed it, an airdot.

So Douglas tries something new, at least new for him. He tries to avoid Martin, hoping for some truth in the old proverb ‘out of sight, out of mind’. It’s a challenge in itself. Since Martin is living with him, Douglas doesn’t enter his own living-room if he suspects Martin is there. He gets up early and leaves the house at a ridiculous hour just to get out of their shared breakfast. They travel separately to the airfield.

Avoiding Martin in the cockpit is understandably worse. Unfortunately flight procedures still rely on verbal communication, but Douglas has stopped complaining about the food Carolyn provides them with. He has stopped teasing Martin and he shuts off any attempts at in-flight games. Once he would have thought that this would result in endless boredom. But now Douglas knows better. Tormenting yourself listening to every move the man beside you makes lets the time fly.

He just wishes that this self-imposed torture would help him to get over his feelings, but instead it just gets worse. And he knows that Martin will tolerate his behaviour only for so long. Despite all of his insecurities Martin could put his foot down if pushed too hard. And probably the only reason why Carolyn hasn’t said anything until now were his hasty departures after each flight. It is only a matter of time until she will seek him out. The thought gets him out of his own mind long enough to register that he had moved on autopilot into his car. And he can see Carolyn heading towards him.

He needs to get away.

God, he is so screwed.

* * *

The steady sound of his car calms Douglas. The roads are not unfamiliar, but he drives them not often enough to get lost again in his own head, a welcome change to his daily routine. As is the goal of this drive. He smiles involuntary as he turns into the driveway, and his smile turns even bigger when he sees his daughter playing on the lawn with her dolls. The dolls are quickly abandoned when she recognises the car and runs to him, rushing into his arms.

He picks her up, not as easily as once, but glad that he still can and that she is still willing to indulge him. He breathes her scent in and lets her down and is immediately pulled towards the dolls. His daughter allows him to sit on the blanket to protect his uniform, but she demands his full attention on the game. And he is thankful for her focus, for her fierce energy, thankful that he doesn’t need to fall back in the cloud of confusing thoughts.

The passage of time is marked by her mother’s appearances: Twice to offer them something to drink and finally to get their little girl ready for bed. He is enthusiastically invited to dinner and has no defences against that, as he also has no defences against his ex-wife’s pointed look that tells him unmistakably that she has questions. It has taken him the years after the divorce to learn not to ignore said look; that it would be in his best interests to listen to her. Sometimes he wishes he had made it work with her, his life would certainly be easier.

* * *

“So what is it?” Julia has returned from putting Kaileigh in bed, carrying a glass of red wine with her. It’s a gift of her to know when he can handle the presence of alcohol and when it would be too much. Until now she was never wrong.

“What do you mean?”

Douglas knows it’s a vain attempt at avoiding the discussion or even at delaying it, but it’s an old reflex. Julia just sighs.

“Douglas, we’ve known one another since we are teenagers. I know when you are brooding about something. So what is it?”

“It’s nothing really.”

“Douglas.” His name is accompanied with a pointed look and he gives up.

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Don’t know what to do about … Oh my god, you’ve found someone new!”

The exclamation startles him.

“Why do you think I’ve found someone new? I just finalized my third divorce.”

“She wasn’t good enough for you,” Julia explains dismissively, “so tell me about them.”

“There is nothing to tell.”

It’s obvious that she doesn’t believe him.

“So there is someone. I knew it. That’s great; you’re not good when you are on your own.”

“There is nobody.”

Douglas says through clenched teeth.

“Hasn’t succumbed to your charms yet? I’m sure they will.”

“What if I don’t want them to?”

“Douglas …what are you talking about?”

“Just look at me. I can’t keep my relationships, I’m an alcoholic, my job is a joke…”

“Stop it.” Her hand is on his arm. “I look at you, and I see someone who has a wonderful relationship with his daughter, who managed to keep us friends, who is brave enough to risk his heart over and over again. Who is a recovering alcoholic for more than ten years. Who still works in the job he loves despite everything that happened.”

She caresses his face. “Tell me about them. Please.”

He holds her gaze for a second, stares into her eyes and sees the trust in them. It melts the dark cloud of anxiety. Obviously she sees the change in him and lets go of him, relaxing back in the sofa cushions.

He takes a deep breath and starts: “It’s Martin.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Okay, drivers, here is your key.”

Carolyn’s voice interrupts Martin’s intense contemplation of a plant in the lobby. It’s a very green plant, also very fake, and practically the only splash of colour in the large hall. Also he is sick of being ignored by Douglas, and being the one doing the ignoring feels at least a little bit better. Not that it makes any impression on Douglas.

“Carolyn, that’s just one key!”

Douglas has of course already snatched the keycard out of Carolyn’s hand. It’s indeed only one card and somehow Martin can’t imagine that this will end well. Dread pools in his stomach especially when Carolyn starts explaining.

“I know. There is a wedding party residing in this hotel and they only got two rooms left. Since I don’t want to share with either of you, this leaves one room for you. Good night.”

Carolyn turns to leave, but Douglas stops her.

“But there must be some other hotel in town.”

Martin briefly wonders whether he should be insulted, but he can’t bring up the energy. It’s already late and flying without any kind of real communication is exhausting. And Douglas not wanting to share a room with him adds only to the pile of little things the first officer has done or not done in the time since he had helped him with the Smith cupboard.

“There is not, I’ve asked.”

‘Of course not’, thinks Martin, ‘why would he be so lucky’.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Carolyn continues undeterred. “You have shared rooms before. And just because MJN has now a secret investor doesn’t mean that we have more money. So, off you go.”

This time Douglas lets her go. He is looking lost and Martin wants to offer to stay behind, so that Douglas has some time for himself. But then he remembers the pile of hurt inside him and that there is only one key. How would he be able to enter the room without it? Besides, he is tired and he still has a plane to fly tomorrow. So he just takes his small bag and walks in the direction of the rooms. He catches movement in the mirrors that are put as decoration in the lobby and is relieved that Douglas follows him. Waiting uselessly in front of their room is not something he was looking forward to and with Douglas’s strange behaviour he wouldn’t put it past him to make him wait.

* * *

The room looks as could be expected from the design of the lobby. Martin has seen enough cheap hotels to recognise the signs of a little rundown place. The rooms are usually small and have seen a lot of guests since their last renovation and the furniture shows its age.

“It’s a double bed.”

And of course those hotels usually have double beds. It wouldn’t be the first time for them to share one and the first few times when that had been the case Martin had barely slept, fearing that he would do something embarrassing in his sleep – like cuddling Douglas – but nothing had happened. So right now, he can’t invest enough energy to see the problem.

“Well, it is certainly big enough for both of us. I think we’ll manage.”

Douglas swallows audibly, before he disappears in the bathroom. Martin stares for a few moments at the spot where Douglas had disappeared, before he starts his own preparations for the night. Switching his uniform against a shirt and shorts, setting the alarm. Douglas leaves the bathroom, and Martin goes brushing his teeth, deciding to shower in the morning. When he returns Douglas is already settled in bed, as usual on the window side. He stares for a moment at the still figure of his colleague, wondering if he should say something, but a big yawn reminds him of his bodily needs and so he just climbs in the bed and switches the night light off.

* * *

Slowly Martin awakes. He senses more than he sees the dim light surrounding him. Although the bed is unfamiliar, it’s comfortable enough. He snuggles a bit deeper in his blanket, inhaling the soft scent of Douglas’ skin, so familiar he could swear that he dreams about it. At the moment, he isn’t ready to face the world yet, leaving the comforting cocoon of this bed to be met again by the strange awkward thing he and Douglas have now. The after-effects of his dream are still lingering and he moves closer to the origin of the warmth in his bed, appreciating the soft tingle as his nose brushes over some errand hair on Douglas’ neck …

Fuck!

Martin’s eyes fly open and he is confronted with the very, very close form of his bedmate. Even worse, not only is his nose and his mouth quite literally on Douglas’ neck, but he has also one arm around the body in front of him (which is also covered by one of Douglas’), and one foot between Douglas’ legs. He can’t help but tense at the realisation that he has just woken up to one of his fondest dreams and worst nightmares. Hadn’t he just last night thought that nothing had ever happened when the two of them had shared a bed? Obviously he had tempted fate.

He feels panic rising up in him. What should he do? How would Douglas react if he finds out?

Martin hears his own accelerated breathing, knowing from experience he needs to calm down before this turns into a vicious cycle of wrong breathing and worrying about the breathing and making it worse with each thought. A slight exhale, almost a snore from Douglas offers a welcome distraction.

Is he still asleep? Maybe he doesn’t need to find out? Maybe if he just moves back to his side of the bed, pretends that nothing out of the ordinary had happened …

Very carefully Martin tries to retreat, but his foot is trapped between Douglas’ legs and they shift with every centimetre Martin pulls his leg back as if they don’t want him to move. When his leg is finally free, he waits with baited breath for any reaction from Douglas. But the other man lies still, Martin can feel his chest slightly moving with his breaths. He tries to use Douglas’ own subtle movement to retract his errant hand, but somehow it seems more complicated than his leg. Because Douglas doesn’t let go of his arm. Instead he seems to follow, turning a bit on his back. Martin tries to inch away slowly, but Douglas continues to follow him, turning completely on his back, all the while keeping Martin’s arm trapped.

And now Martin is hovering at the edge of the bed, with no more room behind him, and the body beside him starts stirring. He looks up at Douglas’ face, and sees his eyelids slightly flattering, his nose scrunching up a bit, and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t move in any direction, and Douglas is waking up. There are not many options, so he decides for the coward way out. He remains silent, and closes his eyes again. It takes some effort to even out his breath and to pretend that he is still asleep while he waits for Douglas to open his eyes. It’s all he can hope for now, that Douglas would see the snuggling as something that just had happened while they were sleeping.

The second Douglas’ body tenses up, Martin knows that he is awake. He forces himself to keep his breathing regular, even as he can feel Douglas sliding his fingers carefully over his arm, before he takes it and puts it in the small space between them. The movement of the bed and the silent rustling of the bedclothes tell Martin that Douglas turns back on his side, before he gets up. Martin uses to movement to hide his face in the pillow, still pretending to be dead to the world. He is unable to resist the urge to take a quick look at his bed partner. Opening one eye and looking carefully through his lashes he can see Douglas standing in front of the bed, his boxer shorts low on his hips. He looks on the bed, but as his gaze wanders to Martin he closes his eyes again. But not fast enough not to see the look of disgust on Douglas’ face.

After a short moment Douglas walks away to the bathroom and only when the door claps behind him, Martin allows the shaky breath he was holding to escape and tries to ignore the stinging in his eyes. Ordinarily he would love to use the few minutes to stay in bed, but right now he doesn’t know if he can face Douglas. Not with the bed so close and still smelling like him (like them) and the memory of this look. He needs to think about it, needs to figure out what to do, and he can’t do that in the same room as Douglas. So he jumps out of the bed, puts on his uniform and collects the few items he had unpacked the last night before he practically runs out of the room.


	9. Chapter 9

Douglas always thought that he had already experienced practically every situation two people could find themselves in, but even he must admit that his relationship with Martin has reached a new level of awkwardness. If this is even the right word for the current situation. Martin and he had barely spoken a word on their flight back outside the necessary amount to guarantee a safe flight. The captain with red blotches in his face, hunched in himself, avoiding any contact at all. It hadn’t taken the pointed look of Carolyn to establish that she thought him responsible.

No, Douglas had already known that.

As well as he had been disgusted with his own cowardice. It hadn’t been easy talking with Julia about Martin and his feelings for him, but he had managed after he had gotten over his amusement at her shocked expression. He hadn’t known that her eyebrows could rise this far. But it seems that his feelings for Martin have only gone worse. So bad that he can barely function around the man, so bad that he is almost thankful for the silence in the cockpit and the formal language they keep. Because then there is no need for him to actually come up with casual things to say while something different is hovering on his tongue. Something like ‘I loved cuddling with you in bed tonight’.

He hadn’t slept much that night, waking up early and watching the sun rising. Feeling Martin’s body behind him, snuggling closer, Martin’s breathe on his neck. And for one perfect moment the world seemed to stay still as if the universe presented him with the ultimate answer. And then Martin woke up and tensed up and tried to dislocate himself from his position behind Douglas.

Douglas knew this part from awkward one-night-stands when all that remained from the previous night was an embarrassed ‘What did I do?’. He didn’t want this from Martin (especially since there wasn’t even a night to be embarrassed about), but he wanted to indulge a little longer in the feeling of Martin lying in bed with him. Only after Martin’s attempts to get some space Douglas decided to ‘wake up’ and give it to him. He was disgusted with himself for being so needy in the first place. Disgusted that he wanted to stay in bed or at least stare at a little bit longer at Martin in his bed.

And now he is heading home to his house where Martin is waiting. Or had already disappeared in his room, avoiding any further contact with him. It is strange how much he misses Martin around in his house. Those few weeks were enough to get him a taste of a domesticity he probably never had or if he had it was a long time ago. And he knows he was the first to end this, but he had only wanted a temporary relief until he got his feelings under control.

Again caught up in thoughts around Martin and the emotional mess they are wading in he is completely surprised by the view in front of his house. Martin’s van stands in front of the door and Douglas can see the bags Martin had brought with him in the open van door. Martin leaves the house with a box, still wearing his uniform and it is soaked through. And completely in agreement with the sometimes casual cruelness of the universe it seems somewhat fitting that the box wouldn’t hold everything and its bottom collapses.

Douglas watches Martin falling down on his knees, the picture of a broken man and it tears his heart apart. He bites on his lip to give his pain an outlet and all his heavy blinking can’t hold back some of the tears burning in his eyes. He did that, he broke Martin.

He has no idea how long he sits in his car and stares at Martin in the rain, hoping for some kind of inspiration what to do now. Should he go to him? Should he wait? What is the right thing to do?

But before he can do anything Martin picks himself up. He throws the remains of the box and the few things that had fallen out of it in the van, before he almost violently closes the door. Desperately hoping that the van would have his monthly breakdown, Douglas watches the headlights going on after Martin has climbed in. Of course the unreliable thing would never do what is expected of it. The engine starts without any problems and he can only watch as Martin pulls out of the driveway and leaves his home. Only when he can’t see the backlights anymore he finally drives on the spot where the van was parked just minutes before.

* * *

When Douglas arrives at the porter cabin, Martin’s usual spot is empty. It’s unusual to arrive before the captain with his built-in-time safety net, especially when Douglas himself is definitely late, but unusual seems to be the theme of the last weeks. Unusual and draining. Last night, he had been sitting far too long in his living room, watching the room growing darker until the stand by lights of his technical appliances were the only source of orientation. He is not sure when he had gone to bed, but it hadn’t really mattered. Martin sitting in the rain, desolated, had been imprinted in his brain, his memory. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw him soaked and desperate. He wasn’t even sure if or for how long he had slept, feeling exhausted despite the early hour.

Entering the porter cabin he makes a beeline for the coffee, hoping that his third cup of the day will do the trick. Or maybe the adrenaline because he jumps when Carolyn addresses him.

“Douglas, so nice of you to join us. So maybe we could start sometime this morning our flight to Copenhagen?”

“What about Martin?”

“Martin has taken a week off.”

“A week off?” Somehow Douglas feels wrong-footed.

“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, but he kind of saved the company. So I felt that a week off isn’t that much of a reward.”

“No, of course not.”

“Although I hope it won’t be longer.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Maybe because I suspect a certain someone being at least somewhat responsible for Martin’s need for vacation.”

“What do you want to say?”

“You know I’m not good at this, but you managed to screw up royally. It was bad enough, when he was in love with you. Usually, he could hide it pretty well and it was obvious he never had a chance. But what you are doing now is simply cruel. So I’m asking you to stop this. For his sake and maybe also for the company. I need two pilots. So stop playing games.”

“Who says I’m playing games?”

Her stare is inquisitive as she searches his face. For what he isn’t entirely sure.

“Oh my god, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

He can’t even bring up enough energy to be insulted at her exclamation. So he just asks tiredly: “What do you mean?”

“You have fallen in love with him.”

“I have n…” He can’t finish the sentence. Not only does he know it would be a lie (which generally wouldn’t be a problem), but because her look is full of so much compassion.

“Douglas, I may be an old lady that has almost as many divorces as you below her belt, but if I can try – well to put it frankly – something ridiculous as another relationship, you can try too.”

“I don’t think …” Another sentence he can’t finish. This thing is ruining him. When has he ever not known what to say. All he can do is shrug helplessly.

He expects Carolyn to say something more, but once again she just looks at him searchingly and finally sighs.

“Well, whatever you do, you have one week to make a decision. And all I ask of you is not to wreck the company.”

* * *

Martin hates Sunday Dinners at his mother’s. He loathes them with every fibre of his being, taking every job for Icarus Removals or switching his flights with Douglas on Sundays, volunteers for any strange activity someone suggests to him, just to get out of them. Because they are awful. The whole family together, listening to Caitlin and Simon’s perfect careers and their condescending evaluation of his. Being tormented by his brother’s children and being bitten by his sister’s dog. No wonder he is wary of children and other people’s pets. If he is really lucky, his mother would remember any of the humiliating stories of his youth, and despite all the time, he can still recall the shame for each and every one. So yes, he doesn’t like his mother’s dinners.

He loves his family, but he has realised long ago that he likes them better from a distance, when they don’t have a chance to belittle him. But today they will have a field day. He has moved back in his old room at his mother’s house after having given up his own flat and his shared flat. He already regrets having told them about Theresa, because they will ask about her. And he can’t lie about her, obviously, because he is pathetically bad at lying and his mother already has made several attempts at questioning him. No, today’s dinner will be awful. That’s why he lingers in his room, watching the arrival of his brother with his family and of his sister. He stays up here while listening to the commotion downstairs, the voice of his brother as easily as the screams of his children penetrating the wall and the floors. He waits until his mother is calling for him before he moves slowly downstairs.

He takes his usual place, waits until the dishes are handed to him. Most of the time he considers the food the only positive thing, especially when he comes from a week of tinned beans. He listens to his brother bragging about his son’s school project and the dog show his sister’s darling had appeared, waiting for the inevitable when they would turn to him. The question comes when he is chewing on his beans.

“So Martin,” Caitlin starts, “why did you move in with mom again? Mom couldn’t tell.”

He chews and swallows carefully before he starts explaining.

“It’s pretty simple. My landlord wanted to renovate the house and I couldn’t stay.”

Martin looks expectant at Simon, already pretty sure that this will be his brother’s perfect entry into the conversation. And he is right.

“That’s not how it works, Martin. Your landlord must provide you with an alternative”, Simon explains condescendingly.

“No, he doesn’t. Not …” His attempt at detailing the situation is unsurprisingly interrupted.

“Of course, he does. Really you should call me first before you make such decisions.”

Next attempt.

“No, he doesn’t. He only decided to do the renovations after I told him I would move out. He couldn’t know that I would need the flat longer than I thought.”

“Why did you want to move out?”

The condescending tone is gone, but apparently now starts the official interrogation.

“I had an offer for another job for which I would have to move. That’s why I terminated my lease.”

The look in Simon’s eyes becomes speculating. Martin has already laid down his cutlery.

“What other job?”

“As a pilot”, Martin responds calmly.

“Where?”

“Swiss Airways.”

He can hear the surprised gasps of his mother and his sister, but it is more satisfying seeing it on his brother’s face.

“And why didn’t you take it?”

Well, isn’t this the Million-Pound question? And although he knows what he wants to say, he can’t help but stutter.

“Because … because I like MJN and they made me an offer … and I couldn’t go. They would have gone bust.”

Naturally, his brother is not impressed. Instead Simon puffs up and the condescension is back, practically dripping down from his mouth.

“But you could have worked for a real airline, not some cheap charter firm. Martin, really, you have to think more about yourself.”

Martin knows rationally that his brother is right, that Swiss Airways had been a great chance for him, but he had his reasons. And he had taken his time to make this decision. He had thought about himself, where he wants to be, with whom he wants to work with. He knows in advance that his explanation won’t impress anyone on this table, but nevertheless he tries.

“It’s not a cheap charter firm. It’s … it’s a family business. We are a little family.”

The conversation only goes downhill from there. Martin isn’t surprised that they don’t understand, he was always the odd bird in his family with his obsession with flying and planes. After spending hours arguing in circles over the same issue again and again (the food going cold and stale, not that it matters, he had long lost his appetite), he is grateful to fall into bed, grateful for the silence in the house, but he wishes his bed were somewhere else and he could simply avoid any of his family for the foreseeable future. Only he has nowhere to go right now and in the darkness of his old childhood room with the wallpaper of airplanes he feels as lonely as he hasn’t in a long time.


	10. Chapter 10

“Martin, there is tea in here.“

“Yes, thank you, Mom, but I want to finish this first.”

“But you need a break, love. You are working so hard and you are on holiday.”

“Yes, Mom, but … you know what, I take this tea.”

When Martin comes outside again he knows he had at least appeased his mother for the next two hours. Even if it meant that his plan on finishing the repair work on the van today is probably screwed. On the upside this means he has still something else to do tomorrow and can avoid another day of being interrogated by his mother about his Theresa and why it had ended or by his brother about his career choices. When he hears one more time how it was obvious he wasn’t ready for something prestigious like Swiss Airways, he is going to scream. Or murder his brother. Which doesn’t seem likely since Simon can still lift him easily.

With a sigh he settles again on the moving board rolling himself under the van. He soon finds the hole in the pipe, although not without getting himself some oil on the face. Which doesn’t bother him until he hears a familiar voice. A voice that he hasn’t heard in the last five days.

“Hello Martin.”

A voice that also brings back all the unwanted memories that plague him every night. Of course he would show up when Martin is lying under a van in his oldest clothes and with oil on his face.

“What do you want here?” A part of him cringes at his own hostile tone. To make up for it he rolls out from under the car, blinking against the daylight.

“You left some things behind.”

And indeed, Douglas is carrying a little box. Martin stands up, blushing at the thought how ridiculous he must look. He takes the box from Douglas and checks it. It contains two of his shirts and a pair of his shoes, nothing that he really had missed. He closes the box again and put it on the doorstep.

“Thank you.”

He waits for a reaction but nothing is forthcoming, so he decides to leave it. He wants to be done with Douglas Richardson and although it doesn’t seem likely at the moment, he won’t wait for any sign of affection or recognition anymore.

“Do you need help?”

And as usual Douglas is an expert in wreaking havoc with Martin’s plans. The question is unexpected, especially after the long weeks with basically no communication. But the whole visit is unexpected, so Martin simply has to clarify.

“You want to help?”

“Yes, that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?”

It sounds like a completely different question and for the first time since Douglas arrived Martin really looks at him. Of course, Douglas doesn’t look that much different. Still radiating confidence, still looking the mighty sky god even without the uniform. It is only the clenching of his left fist that gives him away. Maybe they are really having a completely different conversation.

“Do you know how to repair a leaking oil tube?”

“Martin, in all these years we’ve known each other, have you ever seen me not knowing how to do something?”

Douglas sounds as confident as always and of course Martin hasn’t seen Douglas incapable of anything he wants to do, so he just climbs back on the rolling board with the universal gesture for ‘be my guest’ and rolls back under the van. The tension between them hasn’t completely disappeared, but they work well together. Douglas indeed knows his tools and hands them to Martin and if he somehow manages to touch Martin’s hand in an almost caress, Martin isn’t stupid enough to mention it. Instead Martin chooses to ignore the butterflies in his stomach whenever Douglas touches him and tries to finish as soon as possible. Pretty soon he rolls out under his van, grabbing an old cloth lying on the floor next to the van and tries to clean his hands. He stands up awkwardly, not really knowing what to say.

In the end it is Douglas who breaks the silence: “So, finished?”

“Yes, finished, thank you.”

Martin glances at Douglas. The other man looks lost and in a way as awkward as Martin feels, a little worse for wear with oil on his face. But it is the lost look on Douglas’ face that tears down Martin’s resolve. Instead of keeping everything strictly professional he hears himself offering: “Do you want to come in? I can make you some tea or something to eat … I mean it is about dinner time.”

Douglas looks at him strangely before he answers.

“Thank you, but I don’t think so.”

‘Of course, you wouldn’t.’ The casual rejection stings but Martin reminds himself that he had survived worse rejections, even from Douglas.

“Oh, okay. That’s alright. I just …”

Douglas interrupts Martin’s stammering.

“My daughter has invited me to a school play and I should probably go.”

“Really? … I … I mean, of course.” Martin can’t help the relief he feels at Douglas’ words, happy with the realisation that it’s not really a rejection. He knows how important Douglas’ daughter is to him. He offers Douglas the cloth. “You have some oil on your face.”

Martin watches for a moment as Douglas tries to wipe the spot with the cloth, but then gives into the temptation and takes the fabric out of Douglas’ hands. He wipes carefully over Douglas’ face, avoiding looking in those eyes that watch him with a hint of humour and something else.

“Here, you should be fine”, Martin finally lets go of Douglas’ face.

“Thank you.”

Douglas simply looks at him and Martin realises how close they still are. Nervously he takes a step back, biting his lip. But he is still near enough to see Douglas’ eyes getting darker as his glance flickers to his mouth. Martin feels heat rising in his cheeks and he hopes desperately that the beginning twilight will hide his blush. Probably not, if the small smile around Douglas’ lips is any indication.

“Martin, will your friend stay for dinner.”

He is not sure whether he should thank or curse his mother for her timing. But the spell is broken and the takes a deep breath before he turns around.

“No, Mom, he has to leave now.”

“That’s a shame. I’ve made shepherd’s pie.” With that she turns, leaving the door open.

“I better go.”

“Yes, of course.”

Martin follows Douglas the few steps to his car. He waits when Douglas drives out of the driveway stopping for a moment on the road. When the window rolls down, Martin leans closer.

“You know, you can always come back.”

* * *

It is so very quiet. Douglas remembers the silence from before Martin’s moving in, but it has never been this disturbing. Every cling of the cutlery on the plate seems to echo through the house. The water sounds unnaturally loud when he washes the dishes, and even turning on the radio or the television doesn’t help. It fills up the space with sound but not with life.

He tries to get back the kind of peace he had before. When being alone in this house hadn’t bothered him. But Martin has moved out one week ago and Douglas still feels the ache of loneliness every time he enters his house. None of his attempts at coping works, instead all he can remember is Martin sitting across from him, nose in another flight magazine, happy little sighs over another article of the braking system for the new Boeing.

It hasn’t helped seeing him at his mother’s house. Douglas knows he has screwed up and he wants to make it up to Martin, wants to restore their friendship and maybe, if there is a chance, turns it into something more. In a way he should be thankful for Martin leaving, it had given him the time to think, to make up his mind and to get at least some of his inner balance back. And meeting Martin had given him an opportunity to observe Martin, to see how the other man reacts to him. Douglas has enough experience to know when someone is interested in him and their moment before Martin’s mother had interrupted them had made it clear that he could seduce Martin easily.

But he wants to take things slow. He has hurt Martin and three painful divorces are enough. This time it has to be right. Seducing Martin might help with the erotic dreams at night, but first he wants to win his friend back, wants back the domesticity they shared before everything had gone to hell. Which means right now he has to be patient and wait for Martin to trust him again. So he sits alone in his too empty house and makes up plans what to do when he will see Martin again.

To distract himself, he tries to listen to his favourite jazz album, but it doesn’t feel right without the slight movement of Martin’s sock-clad foot bobbing up and down. Sighing he stops the CD, returning to his seat to another attempt at reading his book and losing himself in another world. It is harder than it should have been, and he catches himself reading the same pager over and over again without taking in a single word. But staring in the darkness being caught in his own head is not something he enjoys very much. He prefers to be active, but he knows it is not the right call at the moment. And there are only so many times he can flee from his own house to his ex-wife. Yesterday, the new husband actually asked him whether he had moved in.

He takes a drink from his tea, tries to settle back in his chair and to concentrate on the adventures of some spoilt kid that tries to be a detective. He makes it through the next three pages and actually manages to follow the story, but the plot doesn’t really grab him. He considers giving up and going to bed already, he has a flight tomorrow morning and with his restless nights the past few days, he should probably get more than the requisite five hours. Maybe this time his brain wouldn’t supply him with pictures of Martin naked under the shower or sleeping in his arms or worse looking at him so very kissable when he left him at his mother’s a few days ago or – the other kind and apparently a personal favourite of his stupid brain – Martin looking absolutely wrecked the day he had moved out.

Douglas closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head slightly to drive the images away, and he is absolutely relieved when the door bell rings. He doesn’t expect anyone, but sometimes one of the neighbours needs to borrow some eggs or schoolchildren try to sell something for some school thingy. Hell, he would even welcome Jehovah’s witnesses just to get out of his head, to have a distraction from the emptiness of the house. When he arrives at the door, he doesn’t even take the time to look through the peephole, he just opens it.

There are no neighbours or schoolchildren in front of him.

It is Martin.

Martin is standing right in front of him.

Douglas’ gaze flickers along Martin and sees the van in his usual spot in the driveway. The sight makes Douglas smile a little. He returns his gaze to Martin who watches him with something like anxiety on his face, his hands wriggling each other. Douglas wants to say something, anything, but everything seems inappropriate and so he settles for a simple ‘Hello, Martin’.

And he can see how Martin takes all his resolve and asks:

“Can I move back in?”


	11. Chapter 11

Douglas stares at the face in front of him. Stares at the big green eyes, at the freckles on the nose and the mouth that is momentarily pressed in a nervous line. Only one thought hammers in his brain: ‘He can’t wait any longer’. He takes one step out of the door and another one until he is really close and Martin looks up to him. Martin is about to say something but Douglas doesn’t want to hear it, can’t bear to let Martin think for one more second that he means nothing to him. He cradles Martin’s face in both hands and closes slowly the distance between them, searching the face below him for any kind of defence.

There is no sign of it, just a surprised exhale that washes over his face. Douglas takes advantage of the now lax mouth, pulling the upper lip between his lips, tugging lightly, allowing himself a short swipe with his tongue, tasting. He repeats the movements with the bottom lip, again only allowing himself a little taste. He draws back, again taking in every detail of the face in his hands and feel the answering flutter of his heart when Martin’s eyes open.

“Yes, please do.”

His own voice sounds hoarse as if it hasn’t been in use and who would have been here to talk to? Martin’s pupils dilate a little bit and Douglas can’t resist, can’t resist the mouth that have been proved to be very kissable with the little taste that still lingers on his tongue. Once again he closes the distance between them, a little less careful at the contact of their mouths and this time he hears a little sigh or is it a moan and he can feel the slight vibrations beneath his lips. This time when he licks a bold stripe over Martin’s lips, Martin simply opens his mouth, welcoming his tongue.

It is a slow snog, exploring Martin’s mouth and letting him in return do the same. Sometimes they border on sexual, flaming a need that has been too long buried, but for the most part of it, it just feels perfect. As if it should have been like this all the time.

His left hand has long dropped to Martin’s waist, aligning their bodies better, matching them to be the perfect fit. His other hand slips in Martin’s curls, adjusting his head to a better angle. Martin has also started moving his hands. One is currently lying on Douglas’ heart and he can feel the other on his back.

He has no idea how long they are standing at his doorstep, kissing like teenagers, but it takes the horn of a passing car to shake them out of their reverie. Douglas pulls out of the kiss, trying in vain to breathe normally and leans his forehead on Martin’s. It is too close to see his eyes properly but perfect to admire the slight flush on his cheeks and feeling the answering ragged breathing on his skin.

“Maybe we should move this inwards.”

The eager nod makes him smile and he pulls Martin with him as he slowly walks backwards in the house. They only make it past the front door, and Douglas closes it with his foot before leaning back in. In the back of his mind he is aware that they should probably talk, but Martin eagerly lifting his head is all motivation he needs. This time they don’t hold back and the arousal that has been on low flame the whole time comes crashing down on him. He is delighted to hear Martin’s moan, barely louder than an exhale, when he travels with his mouth along the stubborn jaw, down this pale neck and sucks at the pulse point. Martin’s grip is suddenly that much tighter, digging in his skin.

“Bedroom”, demands Martin, and his throaty voice sends a shiver down Douglas’ spine.

Douglas lifts his head from where he is sucking a hickey on the pale flesh to ask: “Are you sure?”

Martin’s only answer is pulling Douglas down into another kiss and when they part for air, Douglas doesn’t need any more encouragement. He feels his erection straining against his zipper, an answering hard-on poking in his thigh. He pulls them back from the front door where they have ended in-between the kisses and steadies Martin, before he turns him, so that he can draw his back against his front and walks them to his bedroom. He is pretty sure that looking at Martin’s swollen mouth, the slight blush on his face and the look of lust in his eyes, he won’t make it that far. Having him warm in his arms, being able to nuzzle at his neck is at the moment the better method.

* * *

Martin is gently directed to Douglas’ bedroom with Douglas right behind him, caressing him with gentle touches, slipping his fingers under his clothes and nibbling at his back. Martin tries to catch those agile fingers, having them stay at one place on his body but with well-placed flickers of his tongue against his neck and whispered promises Douglas easily controls his body. He barely manages to open the door und turns desperately around to press his lips on the other man’s.

Douglas indulges him for a few moments, the kiss slow and deep and Martin can’t stop the whimper that grows in his throat. He is only half aware that he is led through the room, distracted by nimble fingers that open the buttons of his shirt and now explore the skin beneath.

The shirt is discarded the moment his legs are stopped by the bed. The momentum of the movement almost makes him lose his balance. He digs his fingers in Douglas’ arms, an action that is answered with a low chuckle.

“Careful, Captain.” And the husky voice surrounding his rank makes him glad that Douglas usually uses a mocking tone to address him because otherwise flying wouldn’t be on the top of his mind.

Douglas pulls out of another kiss, giving him a tender peck on his swollen lips. “Get off your shoes.” It is this moment that Martin registers the hands on his trousers, the button already open and the zip slowly being pulled downwards – an exquisite torture for his cock. He exhales audibly but manages somehow to get rid of his shoes and socks while Douglas extents his torturous method of undressing. He can’t suppress the moan nor the begging ‘Douglas’ but all he gets as answer is a smirk and another one of those devastating slow kisses. He feels his trousers and pants falling down and is pulled against Douglas still clothed body. The sensation of his naked erection gliding along Douglas covered hardness leaves him dizzy.

Douglas lays him on the bed and the cool sheets are a welcome contrast to his overheated skin. He drinks greedily in the sight of Douglas divesting himself of his clothing and raises his arms impatiently when Douglas climbs on the bed. The first skin to skin contact when Douglas settles on top of him feels incredible. Martin spreads his leg to accommodate the body above him and the resulting contact of their cocks elicits a moan of both of them. It is interrupted by an eager meeting of their mouths.

Martin tries to get hold of Douglas, memorising the feel of his skin but Douglas pulls out of the kiss much too soon and catches Martin’s hands. He raises them over Martin’s head to the headboard. Douglas guides them to take hold of one of the bars. Lifting himself up even more he slowly looks all over Martin. The heat in those brown eyes make Martin blush, though his indignation at the amused glint he discovers in his lover’s face is immediately forgotten when Douglas bends his head to catch Martin’s earlobe between his teeth.

“Keep your hands this way, Captain.”

The order is a soft whisper before Douglas starts his slow way downwards Martin’s body – sucking here, nibbling there, lavishing other parts with his tongue. Martin’s fists clench around the headboard and he is aware that he is writhing under Douglas’ ministrations. He can hide his body’s reactions just as little as he can suppress his needy whimpers.

After what feels like eternities of worshipping and many detours on the way to his groin Martin finally feels Douglas hand on his cock. Involuntary he lifts his head and meets Douglas eyes. Mesmerised he watches as Douglas lowers his head and slowly takes the head of his cock in his mouth. He wants to arch his body at the feeling of Douglas suckling on his glans but he can’t take his eyes away from the sight and it translates to heavy shudders which results in even more access to Douglas mouth. Douglas lays a soothing hand on Martin’s stomach and starts to suck in earnest. The bobbing movement breaks the eye contact, and Martin is almost relieved, letting his head fall back on the pillows, pressing his face in his arm all the while he feels Douglas’ mouth around him.

Douglas tongue glides over his slit and along the vein, his other hand massages his balls. Martin feels his orgasm fast approaching and the world is finally lost to him when the hand wanders lower to his hole. A hoarse ‘Douglas’ is the only warning he can give before bliss overtakes him and his surroundings turn wonderfully fuzzy.

He has no idea how long it takes him to come back to his senses but when he does Douglas kneels beside him, slowly stroking his cock. Martin loosens one of his hands which are miraculously still around the bars to help but Douglas stops him. “We are not finished yet, Captain”, and in the following kiss he can taste himself along with Douglas’ own arousal.

The kiss melts away whatever strength Martin has regained. When Douglas lifts his head Martin opens his eyes again. “May I?” Douglas’ gaze is tender and Martin feels like a fragile god on an altar, especially after Douglas starts again his exploration of Martin’s body after a whispered ‘yes’ from him.

Martin closes his eyes again when Douglas bites him in the collarbone, soothing the sting with kisses. It’s the sound of the drawer that wakes his attention and opens his eyes again. He turns to look and Douglas shows him a bottle of lube, offering it to him for a closer inspection. “Passionfruit flavour”, Douglas whispers with a rather self-satisfied smile. Martin can’t help the frown but his questions are answered when Douglas squeezes a drop on his collarbone. The gel feels cold on his skin, but it warms when Douglas spreads it with his fingers. And any thought of cold is whisked away when Douglas bends down to lick over the spot.

Another wave of arousal hits Martin, leaving him shivering. He doesn’t have the strength to glare at Douglas’s smirk – mostly due to the fact that Douglas repeats the process on his nipples. Below his ribs. In his bellybutton which Martin learns is a rather potent erogenous spot. By the time Douglas reaches his re-hardened cock Martin has long started begging again. The cold-hot sensation of lube and Douglas tongue is elevated by the slight brushes of Douglas own hard cock against his skin which could be accidental but Martin doubts it.

He feels more than ready when Douglas slides his lubricated fingers behind his balls to his hole, slowly entering him, fucking him in a steady rhythm. A second finger joins the first and the sweet burn draws all of Martin’s focus. He spreads his legs even further, an invitation that Douglas immediately follows. He scissors his fingers, adding a third and while Martin still fights the lingering discomfort, Douglas glides over his prostate – the sensation brushes any discomfort away.

“Please, Douglas.”

Martin is sure he can’t take anymore. He feels his cock leaking, the fluid creating a wet spot on his stomach. He is relieved when Douglas answers with a strained ‘yes’ and he is lifted and pulled towards Douglas until he feels the blunt head of his cock at his hole. He watches the look of concentration while he is entered and the only remaining thought is ‘Douglas is in me’.

It feels perfect and can’t resist the blissful expression on Douglas face. His arms leave the headboard and he reaches for Douglas, pulls him down on his body and their mouths meet in something like a kiss. The change in position also changes the angle and Martin slightly tilts his hips and then Douglas hits his sweet spot. Martin experiments with more of those little movements all the while Douglas stays still.

“Douglas, please, move, please.”

And finally, finally Douglas slides his cock out and back in and Martin meets his thrusts eagerly. It doesn’t take long and their rhythm turns erratic, Martin is sliding a hand between their joined bodies to stroke his own cock while Douglas’ head rests on his shoulder. When Douglas comes with a muffled scream, it’s all Martin needs to join his lover.

Later Douglas lifts his head, brushing his lips lightly over Martin’s and slides to his side, looking at him seriously. Martin can’t stop the small bout of anxiousness, but Douglas lifts his hand to caress over his face.

“I should probably have told you this sooner, but I love you.”


	12. Epilogue

“Okay, here we go. Arthur, your key. Douglas this is yours. And Martin here is your key.”

Arthur bounces immediately away, having complained the whole drive to the hotel that he needs a restroom. But Martin stares bemused at the key in his hand. Since he moved back into Douglas’ house (and in the now shared bedroom) almost six weeks ago, they haven’t had separate rooms for any of the flights that required overnight stays. Carolyn had accepted the change in their relationship pretty easily, just warned them not to involve her in any couple arguments. Arthur had been enthusiastic, creating another cake masterpiece which involved lots of chocolate, sprinkles, and frozen dough. It hadn’t been exactly edible, but he had nevertheless loved the cake especially after being subjected to Douglas’ alternative methods of eating chocolate frosting. The memory makes him blush and judging from Douglas’s slow smirk he has guessed easily a possible reason for the heat in his cheeks.

Sometimes Martin still can’t believe that they are a couple, that they share Douglas’ home for real, that he sleeps in Douglas’ arms every night.

That he hears him say that he loves him.

He still hasn’t gotten used to it, and he thinks he probably never will. Not to the flutter in his chest when he hears the words, not to the need to respond with the same words. The first few days they have talked a lot, especially in the flight deck, since Martin had resisted joining the mile high club with Douglas when they were supposed to be flying the plane. Douglas had retaliated by torturing Martin at night, driving him to brink several times before he allowed him to let go. If he were honest, there had been some mornings when he hadn’t been exactly fit to fly in the strictest sense of the regulations. Probably the reason why Carolyn now wants to give them two rooms. He doesn’t like the idea of sleeping alone, and wants to protest, but Douglas beats him to it.

“I wouldn’t have thought that this place offers two keys for their rooms. And besides, I don’t think we’ll need them since we are staying only for one night and as you keep remembering us, we have to leave very early tomorrow morning.”

Douglas holds out his key to Carolyn while pulling Martin closer with the other hand.

“Ah, yes, but these are the keys for two separate rooms. As you just said, you have to be fit to fly tomorrow morning and I won’t tempt you with a shared room.”

“And here I thought that the possibility to safe money outweighs modesty concerns,” a raised eyebrow accompanies the statement and Martin has to swallow against his suddenly dry throat. Douglas in a sarcastic mood is always a sexy sight.

“Look, I am very happy for both of you as I’ve already told you,” Carolyn all but bristles, “but Mr Alyakhin is still one of MJN’s biggest clients and I don’t want to risk anything.”

Douglas pulls him closer still until Martin is almost leaning against him, his fingers caressing his hip.

“Carolyn, I promise we will be fit to fly.”

“Says the man who claimed to have spent one night in four days.”

“Martin, promise her that we will be fit to fly.”

“We well be fit to fly.” Martin repeats obediently.

“There you go. Certainly you trust Martin? The stickler for safety procedures? Now, can I get one double room?”

Martin watches the play of emotions on Carolyn’s face and smiles relieved when he sees her relenting.

“Oh fine, but if anything …”

“It won’t,” he promises before he gives in the temptation and snuggles against Douglas, both of them watching Carolyn changing their rooms.

* * *

In their room Douglas sits immediately on the bed, jumping slightly up and down. “Oh yes, that will do. Come here, Captain.”

Martin comes willingly, stepping between Douglas’ legs and lets himself be drawn in a kiss. But when Douglas fingers start to unbutton his uniform he pulls back.

“Douglas, I promised her.”

“I’m just helping you. Surely you don’t want to sleep in your uniform.”

“Douglas!”

“I promise we will be absolutely fit to fly. I have a plan.”

He gives Martin a short peck on the lips.

“A quick shag tonight …” “Quick?” “Hush, yes quick, I didn’t bring the passion fruit lube.” Another kiss, lingering a little, “then we will sleep for solid five hours.” The next kiss involves a hint of tongue and some more unbuttoning on the jacket. “And tomorrow morning we shower together to safe time.”

By now Martin cradles his face, invading his mouth with his tongue, leaving Douglas breathless and his fingers slightly uncoordinated. “I really don’t think we will safe time when we shower together.” Douglas only grins. “Then we have to be really fast right now”, and draws Martin back into a heated kiss.


End file.
